Glue

the magic of poems is simple
no need for a rhyme
it doesn`t cost a dime
the magic of poems is a wrinkle
a wrinkle on the face of dreams
a smile in a rainy day
a wink to a stranger
it`s as easy as it seems
i ain`t a good poet
i ain`t even a decent one
just hands with a cigarette
oh, my neck is cracking
got that feeling wrapping
all around myself
poems are the liquid
laying at the bottom
of an empty bottle
the bite, dropped at the ground
silent screams to oblivion
wrinkle on the face of dreams
a placebo to a brighter eye
a gate to the open sky
the emotion of bitterness
when rhyme is needlessness
i, myself am a poem
you are one too
i am getting sleepy
i hope you dreamed of glue
why shower now and then
when it simply can`t
can`t wash away the true
honest feeling of doom
there, a black hole smiling
pulling me towards
its calm embrace
not gates, nor doors
just a friendly face
my lost words are hiding
i can sense them lurking
but it ain`t bout finding
it`s about the glue
it`s about you.

how can one?

how do one call a sunny day
with cloudy thoughts?
how do one call this beaming ray
tied in crazy nots?
how can one express
the bitterness inside?
how can one confess
the single filthy bite?
how can one be pure
in a sea of blackened noises?
how can one be sure
that roses are indeed.. roses?
how can one write with smile
when he wants to shout with rage?
how can one.. rightly guess the tile
of a puzzle, called "an empty page"?
how can one describe with sanity
the inner state of timelessness?
how can one deny the vanity
and reach statelessness?
how can one be truly mad
at the shallow self?
how can one be truly sad
when a single smile can melt?
how can one caw ravenlike
in the face of eternity?
how can one embrace the spike
of this endless journey?
how can one?
one can dream.
how can one?
one can scream.
how can one?
one can everythin`.